MONK: So was the waiter bringing the drinks.
{Kagen snickers.}
KAGEN: But you’ve got story potential, Ivan.
{Monk halts before a bookstore. On its green awning are the words: Mysteries, Murder & Mayhem. Through the window, the proprietor, a rugged individual with a red/browninsh beard, talks animatedly with a customer.}
MONK: So you want to make this into a screenplay? You follow me around while I look for whoever torched you and Ross? I got news for you, Walsh. He might be all doped up now from his third-degree burns, but in a day or two Ross is going to be able to talk and that will be the end of the mystery. His attacker got up close and personal.
KAGEN: But until then who knows what can happen. What if all he has is a vague description?
MONK: You mean of some Middle Eastern perp?
KAGEN: Middle Eastern doesn’t necessarily mean an Arab or Muslim.
{Monk resumes walking and Kagen falls in step.}
MONK: Herv Renschel of the AJA gave you grief, too?
KAGEN: He hasn’t been called the Jewish Farakhan for kicks. I got a few threatening calls the day after I saw Ross. Nobody I.D.’d themselves, but is it a coincidence that the day of the night of the attacks, the AJA ran a full page ad in the Journal denouncing Ten-Shun and the purported project?
MONK: Just to be broad-minded, what if it’s one of the sleeper agents of the Al Qaeda that did the deed?
KAGEN: Okay.
MONK: Shit. I’ve already had somebody blow up my donut shop once.
KAGEN: Come on, Ivan, you got a rep as a man who goes at it until the job is done. This could be big.
MONK: Not to mention good press for you to get a deal.
KAGEN: I’ll make you a producer if we roll film. Hey, I got enough to cover your nut for a week or so. If we get bupkis, no hard feelings.
MONK: I hope I don’t regret this.
{Kagen beams, clapping Monk on the shoulder.}
EXT. SUPERIOR COURT BUILDINGS, DOWNTOWN
L.A., ESTABLISHING-DAY
INT. JILL KODAMA’S COURTROOM
{A criminal trial is in progress. The defense counsel, MS. WINTERS, is about to talk but Kodama, from the bench, cuts her off. The defendant, MR. REESE, is white, twentysomething, dressed in jeans and a tee-shirt. He has an American flag tattooed on his tricep and slouches in his chair, seemingly disinterested in the proceedings.}
KODAMA:… hold on, Ms. Winters. (to the defendant) Mr. Reese, sit up.
MR. REESE
{-glares at Kodama then reluctantly obeys.}
RESUME
{-Kodama talking.}
KODAMA (cont’d): Mr. Reese, you and your friends are charged with a serious matter. You may think that because the man you chased and, by your own admission, fought, turned out to be Guatemalan and an undocumented worker, and not of Arab descent somehow mitigates the circumstances, but they do not in my courtroom, sir. So I suggest you make some effort to pay attention to what’s going on, because I do take attitude into account should there be a sentencing. (to the defense lawyer) And counselor, do a better job of preparing your clients.
MR. REESE
{-looks at Ms. Winters, frowning.}
EXT. CONTINENTAL DONUTS, CRENSHAW
DISTRICT, ESTABLISHING-DAY
{It’s late afternoon at the donut shop-with a massive plaster donut anchored on the roof-on Vernon Avenue owned by Monk. The regulars are seen through the large picture windows sitting inside, talking, playing chess, and so forth.}
INT. CONTINENTAL DONUTS
{Monk selects a chocolate crueller from the case. ELROD, the six-foot-eight, muscled ex-con manager of the establishment looks on disdainfully.}
ELROD: You will have to do penance for that.
MONK: “Keep up appearances, there lies the test.”
{Monk bites into the donut with relish.}
ELROD: You can quote Churchill all you like.
MONK
{-is shocked that Elrod can place the quote.}
ELROD (cont’d): But that doesn’t change the fact that you are backsliding, weak to the allure of butter and sugar.
MONK: Night school must agree with you.
{Monk walks into the back of the shop and then a right along a short hall. He unlocks a heavy screen door protecting an inner door.}
INT. MONK’S INNER SANCTUM
{Monk steps into the Spartanly furnished room. There’s a cot, a small refrigerator, CD boom box, several old school file cabinets, a carburetor on top of one of the cabinets, a new model PC on a sturdy wooden table, and a comfortable swivel chair before it.}
{Monk turns on the boom box which is tuned to a jazz station. He sits down, finishes his snack, and fires up the computer.}
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. WILSHIRE OFFICE OF HERV
RENSCHEL-DAY
{Monk stands at the window, looking out on the city. Kagen sits on a couch before a coffee table, a fine china coffee set before him.}
{HERV RENSCHEL, early sixties, lean and rangy, has a crew cut topping a lined face that bespeaks of his experiences from the Six Day War to being a political infighter. He prowls back and forth on the carpet before them.}
RENSCHEL: You guys crack me up.
MONK (turning): I try.
{Renschel stops and glares at the detective.}
RENSCHEL: I know about you, Monk, the black nationalist private eye.
MONK: I do my best to give everybody a fair shake, Renschel. I don’t wear my race on my sleeve.
RENSCHEL: What, you leave your kafir in the trunk?
KAGEN: If we could stay on point, gentlemen.
{Renschel leans against his messy desk.}
RENSCHEL: Are you interrogating any Arab organizations in this quest for the attackers?
MONK: If that’s where the case take us.
RENSCHEL: Somehow I doubt it will.
MONK: Doubt all you like. I know you were on a radio show the day the Journal leaked that Ten-Shun was considering the Bring Me the Head movie. You didn’t parse your words too much when you said that a judgment should be levied against Ross and Kagen.
KAGEN: He said that?
RENSCHEL: I have a right to my opinion.
MONK: But did you put your words into action, Renschel? Like that time after the ’92 riots when you and some of your more eager members jumped those kids coming out of Canter’s on Fairfax?
RENSCHEL: There had been two gang shootings in that neighborhood in less than a week.
MONK: So any blacks would do, huh? Only these guys were UCLA basketball players and you got the shit sued out of you.
RENSCHEL: I’m a big enough man to admit my mistakes, Monk.
KAGEN (gesturing): We all want the same thing here, find the guilty party.
RENSCHEL: I can say without fear of contradiction, the AJA had nothing to do with these distasteful incidents. I suggest, as I did to the police, that you and your UPN Herculot Perot here could better use your time following up leads elsewhere.